Gemini Rising (Mischievous Malamute Mystery Series, Book 1) (10 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Abe, Anna, Elijah and I decided to take a breather and regroup in the morning. In the meantime, I needed to get some fresh air. Perhaps I was naive. I’d seen his handiwork firsthand when I’d found Victoria and should have been scared out of my gourd. Clark/Dolby—if he truly was the killer—wouldn’t have hesitated to kill me on the spot. Instead, I was fuming and felt an overwhelming need to vent. So after coaxing Leah into taking a dinner break, I packed a sleepy Nicoh into the Mini and headed to her office.

Silly me, with all my bravado, I failed to check my surroundings as I pulled onto Camelback Road. Had I elected to do so, I would have noticed the white Toyota Camry matching me, turn for turn. We all know what they say about hindsight.

Twenty minutes later, I secured a spot in the parking structure next to the building where Leah’s newspaper office was located. As I got out, I was careful to note the level number and section color of the spot I had selected—can you say directionally-challenged? Since we were only three levels up, I opted for the stairs, which didn’t win me any points with Nicoh. Finally, we emerged onto the street.

I couldn’t take Nicoh into the building, so we waited for Leah in the building’s outdoor courtyard and marveled at the skyscraper of glass before us. It should have been peaceful—with the manicured landscaping, beautiful sculptures and luxurious seating—but I was so antsy I could barely sit still. Uncharacteristically, I snapped at Nicoh when he started to sniff some nearby bougainvilleas that bordered the courtyard. His feelings were hurt, so he sat with his back to me, refusing to acknowledge my presence. Great—nothing like a passive-aggressive canine—he’d make me pay for it later.

Leah had warned me she wouldn’t be down for a bit, so I took the opportunity to contact Jim Pearce, my parent’s former lawyer and friend. I knew he worked late and though I didn’t anticipate obtaining anything substantial from him, I needed to keep busy. As expected, he was still in the office and answered on the first ring.

“Hi Jim, it’s AJ.”

“AJ, how are you doing? It’s been awhile—is everything ok? Is there an issue with the house?” Fatherly concern filled his voice.

“No, no, nothing like that. Everything is fine with the house. However, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. Do you have a minute?”

“Of course, honey, what’s going on?”

“Well, this is probably a conversation that is better suited in person, but I’m meeting Leah in a few minutes and well, time is of the essence.”

“I understand. Just tell me, what is it?”

“Well, um, there’s no easy way to say this, but I recently found out I was adopted,” I said bluntly.

“I see,” his tone indicated he had known, but I needed further confirmation.

“Did you know?” I asked gently. “I’m not trying to put you on the spot here, Jim. I’m looking for some specifics about the adoption and hope you can help.

I heard a deep sigh on the other end before he responded, “I did, but after-the-fact.” He then told me a story that sounded eerily similar to the one Sir Harry had told about a busy, working couple who found out too late in life they couldn’t have children, so they decided to adopt. And, like the Winestones, my parents were very private about the details, but one day, there I was. He hadn’t been involved in the adoption, nor did my parents speak of it until several years later.

“Your father only briefly mentioned the adoption once, and at the time, he was strangely agitated. The lawyer he and your mother had used for the adoption—someone the agency had highly recommended—had sent him some documents related to the adoption he found troubling. Just sent them out-of-the-blue. Nearly thirty years later. He hadn’t told your mother about the documents, for fear they would upset her, but realized he would need to come clean with both of you at some point. I never got the opportunity to bring it up again. They died in the plane crash a week later.”

He paused briefly, but I remained silent, allowing his words to register. “After they were gone, I wasn’t sure it was my place to tell you. I didn’t want to cast a shadow over your memories of them. I’m so, so sorry, AJ.”

“Jim, I understand. And I don’t blame you. My parents had their reasons. I…I’m sure they were doing what they thought was best at the time. I loved…love…them unconditionally. Nothing will ever change that.” I fought back a sob as a single tear escaped down my cheek.

“Thank you for understanding, AJ,” Jim sighed.

“Thank you, Jim, for your honesty,” I replied sincerely. “Out of curiosity, did my father happen to mention the name of the adoption lawyer?”

“Hmm, if memory serves, it was Silver-something,” Jim recalled.

“Silverton?” I asked hopefully.

“Yes, that’s it. Silverton,” he confirmed.

Bingo. Another piece of the puzzle slid into place.

I saw Leah coming out of the front entrance, so I thanked Jim, told him we would meet for lunch soon and said my goodbyes.

“Hey, what’s up?” Leah plopped down on the chair next to mine and scruffed Nicoh’s ears before slipping him a cookie.

“Besides the fact you are turning my dog into a chunky monkey?” I sniped as I gave her the evil eye, which as usual, she waved off. I decided to tell her about my call to Jim before proceeding on to the details of my conversation with Abe, Elijah and Anna. The way she had scrunched up her face and plucked at the spiky wisps jutting from her head told me she was miffed about not receiving an invite to the latter.

“I know that look Leah. You’ve already helped me immensely. Plus, you can’t keep ducking out on work.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it under control. My work is getting done, despite my extracurricular activities. Next time, I want in. Or else.” Based upon previous experience, such veiled threats usually resulted in adding an extra five pounds to my dog’s already enormous physique.

Adequately chastised, I told her about GenTech’s ownership of the Sterling Joy Agency, which garnered me an intrigued “oooooh,” how Silverton was servicing both sides of the adoption—as Jim had confirmed was the case in my adoption—and finally, of the Clark/Dolby connection. Leah was as floored as the rest of us had been, then horrified when I added in my theory about his list of victims.

“Oh my, AJ, if you are right, do you think that sicko left Victoria’s mutilated body for you to find on purpose? You know, a way of putting you on notice?”

I shuddered. “I have no idea. I mean, maybe I’m getting us both worked up by drawing conclusions where there are none. What if Victoria’s murder was an isolated incident?”

“Come on, AJ,” Leah threw her hands up as she launched off her seat, “do you really believe that?”

I didn’t, but the alternative was terrifying. “No. I don’t. However, whether Clark/Dolby is our guy, we’re missing a key piece of the puzzle.”

“Explain.” She had calmed down significantly but still stood rigidly, hands-on hips, facing me.

“If you look at all the breadcrumbs we’ve collected so far, from the accidents, to the people that have gone MIA, to Victoria’s murder,” I paused to look at her earnestly, “all roads eventually lead us back to Alcore and GenTech.”

“Six-degrees of separation,” she murmured.

I absently nodded. “We’ve got to go back to the beginning. Find people who either knew about or were involved in the feud between Alcore and GenTech. People who worked with either Martin or Alison.”

“Easier said than done,” Leah said as she began tormenting her hair again.

“Even for a hotshot reporter like yourself?” I teased.

“As if.” She pretended to pout. “I’ve got connections.”

“Top-secret you’d-have-to-kill-me-if-you-told-me-type connections?

“You know it. Give me until morning?” I stood as she turned to head back up to her office.

“Absolutely. And Leah?”

“Yeah?” she paused, looking at me.

“Thanks for everything.” I moved forward and gave her a quick hug.

She hugged me back, even tighter. “Anytime, Ajax, anytime.”

Even with the courtyard lights on, it was still dark, so I watched until I saw her head bob into the building, then nudged Nicoh with my foot.

“You ready to go, buddy?”

He grumbled in response and took his time stretching as he got up, pausing to sniff the bougainvilleas I had scolded him about earlier. This time, I pretended not to notice and instead took a moment to survey my surroundings. The lights must have been playing tricks on me. For a moment, I thought I saw something in the shadows off to the side of the building, but when I squinted, it was gone. I shivered, then chuckled to myself. I needed to get a grip. The past few weeks were messing with my head.

We made our way back to the parking structure and up the three flights of stairs to our level, now less than halfway full, because of the hour. I reached into my bag to pull out my keys, and once again thought I sensed movement in the shadows. Rather than appease my curiosity, I listened to hairs on the back of my neck and hustled Nicoh to the vehicle. Once we were safely locked-in, strapped-in and the vehicle was revved-up, I quickly peered from side-to-side and front-to-back. Boogeyman-free, I shifted into drive and got the heck out of Dodge.

My senses were still working overtime, so I glanced in my rearview mirror more frequently than I normally would have, which is how I spotted him. He exited the parking structure in a white Toyota approximately twenty seconds after I had. At first, I just figured it was paranoia and took an alternate route home to prove it to myself, opting to weave through a myriad of neighborhoods instead of traveling the main streets. My heart dropped. At every turn, he was there, lurking 200-300 feet behind. I’d watched enough Burn Notice episodes to realize this was not a loose tail, especially after my seventh right-hand turn.

Thoroughly freaked-out, I did the only thing I could think of at that moment. I called Ramirez.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ramirez wasn’t on duty when I called, but fortunately, he was nearby and directed me to his location. Of all places, he was at Starbucks. At night. Guy must need to get his coffee buzz on at all hours. I mentally slapped myself—who was I to judge? Right now, I was in dire need of his assistance and thanks to his late-night caffeine therapy session, he was able come to my aid. A shout out to baristas working late everywhere.

As I pulled into the parking lot and eased into the first available space, the Toyota passed. Though the driver didn’t look in my direction, I caught a glimpse of something familiar. An Arizona Diamondbacks hat. I know, you’re probably thinking, duh, you’re in Phoenix—it’d be pretty common to see people wearing the home team’s swag—and you’d be right.

This hat was distinctive, though, a piece of memorabilia from the 1998 inaugural season. At the time, only one hundred bearing the design had been made. I knew this because Leah’s dad, a well-known sportscaster at the time, helped me procure one for my dad’s fortieth birthday. On the inside, it had the imprint: #40 of 100. Leah’s dad had Andy Benes, a pitcher at the time, sign the bill of the hat, along with owner Jerry Colangelo and manager Buck Showalter. It was my dad’s favorite hat. So much so, he wore it all through my high school and college years. He was wearing it the last time I hugged him goodbye—as he and my mother rushed out the door to catch their flight to Albuquerque, where they would catch another small commuter flight to Colorado Springs. Within twenty-four hours, they would both be gone.

I hadn’t seen a hat like it since. That was, until I’d met with Abe and Elijah a few days earlier. At this very Starbucks, in fact. The man sitting alone at the table behind us had been wearing a similar hat, though I hadn’t thought about it much at the time. We’d been having a pretty heavy conversation, and I had been glad to escape it for a few minutes while Nicoh did his business. Had the man been eavesdropping? Could it have been Clark/Dolby? I thought back to the photo of the man known as Dolby and shook my head. I hadn’t been able to see much with the way he had positioned himself at the table, his hat pulled low. However, now that I’d seen a similar man and hat in the span of a few days, I was taking nothing to chance. I jumped when Ramirez lightly tapped on the window.

“Sorry,” he murmured when I opened the door to get out, “I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you ok?”

“No, it’s not your fault, I was distracted. And yeah, I’m ok now, thanks. Just a bit of a disconcerting ride over. Did you see him?” I glanced to the street, but the Toyota was long gone.

“I did.” He looked at me carefully, as though I was going to crack right before his eyes. Wow, did I look that frazzled?
Note to self:
Immediately consult mirror after indulging in Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, especially when a hunky guy is involved.

“California plates—was able to get a number. I’m not expecting much, but I’ll run it through the system, see what pops up.”

“Good. Thanks. You have a minute? I’d better fill you in on a few things.” When Ramirez nodded, I collected Nicoh and the three of us headed to the same patio table where Abe, Elijah, Leah and I had sat. I plopped into the chair, suddenly weary. The adrenaline had worn off, and the day’s events were finally catching up to me. I needed to pull it together long enough to get Ramirez up to speed.

I’m not sure what I expected, but when I finished, his steely gaze fixed on me, his lips drawn into a tight, thin line. My eyes popped—was he angry with me?

I opened my mouth to speak, but he put his hand up and quietly uttered, “AJ, I’m sorry. I should have never pushed you into getting involved.”

I started to protest and once again, his hand rose to stop me. “You are in over your heads. All of you.”

Perhaps I was too tired at this point to control my emotions, because his condescending tone made me snap. “Yeah? Well, I may be in over my head, Detective, but please do tell, what have you and your FBI pals come up with so far?” I snarled, sarcastically emphasizing “Detective.”

“Darn it AJ,” he growled, “you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“As opposed to getting myself killed waiting around?” I spat, undeterred by his outburst. “A killer is out there and if you think I’m going to sit by and take things as they come, or wait for someone to save the day, you are sorely mistaken.”

“You seem to have needed saving this evening, AJ,” Ramirez snarked, but once he witnessed the fury burning in my eyes, I knew he regretted the words the minute they’d escaped. Given my mood, I wasn’t about to let him off the hook.

“My mistake. One I won’t be making again.” I tugged on Nicoh’s leash, and for once, he didn’t dawdle as I hustled him toward the car. After a few steps, I turned on my heel and faced Ramirez, who stood stoically, hands on hips, an indecipherable expression on his face.

“And just to be clear—your apology is not accepted. If you gave me that information expecting a different result, you severely underestimated the girl you thought me to be,” I hissed.

“Furthermore, this may be too much for your ego to absorb, but I don’t need anyone coming to my rescue. My nickname is Ajax for a reason. You’d do well to remember that in the future, Detective.” I left him standing there as I marched purposefully to the Mini, and after quickly situating Nicoh and myself, sped out of the parking lot.

Had I spared a look back in Ramirez’s direction, I would have seen the slightest hint of a smirk playing on his lips.